


desire

by Anonymous



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (jon's been pollen'd and isn't able to either properly consent or stop asking when faced with ‘no’), Altered Mental States, Dubious Consent, I'm talking so non-explicit that no genitals are named so any sorta gender could be happening, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:08:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25820359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: An item from in Artefact Storage leaves Jon a bit out of his mind and wanting nothing but to kiss Martin all over.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 1
Kudos: 91
Collections: Anonymous





	desire

Seated next to Martin on the sofa at Martin’s flat, arms wrapped around his shoulders and head resting in the crook of his neck, Jon whispers, “Please.”

Martin remains unmoving.

“Please, please let me kiss you.” His voice stays soft and he speaks right into Martin’s skin, lips just barely brushing against him. “Let me, please, please. I want to. I want to so much. Want to touch you and kiss you. Want to touch you and kiss you all over.”

Martin can feel his blood pumping right down to his toes. “No.”

“ _Please._ ”

“You’re--you’re not yourself, Jon.”

Every second Jon spends in contact with Martin, he feels more and more cloudy, pleasure and bliss rippling out through his brain and body. Every second Jon spends in contact with Martin, his _want_ and _need_ grow more. He starts squirming and wriggling, pressing tight against Martin’s side. “I want to.”

It takes everything in Martin’s being to say, “ _No._ ”

“Please, please, please,” Jon begs. “Just a kiss, just kisses.”

The slowly increasing incoherence of Jon’s speech is bringing Martin’s mind places he doesn’t want. He clenches his teeth. “No. You wouldn’t want me to let you.”

“Yes I would.”

“I’m already crossing lines letting you cling like this.”

“Kisses are barely _anything_.” His voice has a touch of whine in it. He’s rubbing his cheek into Martin’s shoulder now and moving his entire body up and down rhythmically, the friction doing nothing but whet the appetite he’s never had before. He can feel himself getting almost delirious with desire. “Kissing’s basically just touching. I want to do so much to you, just let me kiss you.”

“ _Jon--_ ”

“Want to kiss you, and touch you, and love you…”

Martin freezes at hearing that last one. Jon sees the give and presses on it.

“Let me love you, Martin, please. I want to kiss you, I want to kiss you, I want to kiss you…" he keeps mumbling that over and over, lifting his face and pressing his nose and forehead into the side of Martin's face. 

Martin’s will shatters like glass. “Okay, okay. Kissing’s--it’s alright. Just kissing.”

As soon as Jon registers that he’s gotten the go ahead, he presses flush against Martin’s chest and starts mouthing along his cheek and jaw, kissing and sucking and licking and biting anywhere he can reach. He wants he _wants he wants._ He presses what feel like thousands of kisses all over the warm skin of Martin’s face and neck, and his body is on fire. He needs to kiss Martin’s mouth, he’s working up to it, but he’s already seeing spots and he feels like he’s going to faint the second he touches their lips together. His heart, his mouth, his brain, his body throb with _need_.

Unable to stop himself any longer, he throws his leg over Martin’s lap ( _God, spreading his legs feels--_ ), secures his arms around the back of Martin’s neck, and locks their lips together.

Jon is fairly certain he blacks out in that position for a few seconds, hot whip-like waves of pleasure crackling up into him. The dry heat burns through him, clearing out his mind like fire sterilising infection. He doesn’t move as he flits back into his body. The frantic, crushing need pulls back, the blood rushing all throughout his body cools just a little bit, the feeling of acute intoxication falls. Still, he doesn’t move from the kiss, breaths heaving through his nose while pressed against Martin’s chest.

After a few seconds of sitting there panting, Jon thinks about pulling away and letting Martin have his lap back, but something twigs in his head. He doesn’t want to pull back. He very much doesn’t want to. As quickly as the desire had receded, it all comes rushing back with a renewed intensity. Jon balls his hands up in Martin’s soft, soft hair and starts sucking on his bottom lip, and bubbles rise in his chest when he hears a moan.

He shifts his aim to kiss at Martin’s cheek and jaw again. He needs to have his mouth on Martin’s skin, he needs to kiss everywhere. The buzzing high of intimacy is back with a vengeance, and Jon is ready to do _anything_. He rocks his hips over Martin’s legs and gasps at the sensation, and without even thinking about it he finds his hand down his trousers.

“N-no.” He’s jolted back as Martin pushes him away by the shoulders. “No, too far.”

“Why?” Jon’s voice is a proper whine now, and he struggles against the restraint, trying to get closer again. “I can touch _me_ if I want, can’t I?”

“Not like this, no.” Martin’s face has just the barest sheen of sweat on it that makes Jon feel very self satisfied. _He_ did that. He doesn’t get why Martin is stopping him from making him sweat more. “You’re not thinking straight, this is too much already. Christ, what am I doing?” Martin takes his hands back to run them over his face and Jon immediately takes the opportunity to suck at the skin over his neck’s pulse point.

“No.” Martin shifts his body, trying to get Jon off his lap.

“Please,” he whimpers. “I can touch you back if that’s better.”

“I told you--”

“I want to. I want to make you feel _so_ good.” Surreptitiously, or, what he deems to be surreptitiously, he squeezes at himself between his legs and writhes against Martin’s chest, trying to cover moans as frenzied whispers of _I want I want_ over and over again. He’s never wanted anything in this vein before, and now overlapping screaming _desire_ is all he can hear. His thoughts are so tied up, his nerves so alight that he can barely distinguish anything. He’s getting so hot, his mind’s cooking inside his skull. “I want, I want to,” he murmurs, one of his myriad desires crystalizing as he pants, “I want to take off my clothes.”

Martin tenses, and Jon can sense the protests coming. He doesn’t give him the chance by kissing his mouth shut. Jon may be addled but he isn’t stupid, he knows there’s only so many ways a man can deny a proposition from someone naked and writhing all over him and clearly pleasuring themself in his lap.

He reassigns both of his hands to pulling his shirt over his head, and when he has to break away from Martin to get it off, he says, “My clothes, I get to choose whether I wear them,” then goes back to licking the roof of Martin’s mouth as soon as he’s able. He notices that Martin’s stopped trying to push him away as he brings up his knees to shove down his trousers and pants.

And just like that, Jon’s completely naked not just in front of someone but _on top of_ someone for the first time in his life. The thrill jolts through him and he can’t help but squeeze at himself some more, nipping at Martin’s lip as he sighs and frantically rubbing his body against Martin's as he squirms. He feels so, _so_ good, mind, body and soul, and he’s going to give back the same. Martin’s arms wrap around Jon’s bare back, and he knows he’s won. Jon’s glad Martin’s letting himself want, wanting is fantastic.

Jon breaks the latest bout of rutting and kissing with, “I’m getting on the floor now.”

Martin’s eyes rake up and down Jon’s fully exposed skin. “Yeah, okay.”

Jon smiles hazily and slips backwards off the sofa, landing side saddle before Martin. He nuzzles his face into Martin’s knee before snaking his hands around Martin’s hips, pulling him forward a few inches. He sinks his thumbs into the waistband of Martin’s trousers and pants at the same time and pulls them down and off in one fell swoop. Another first, Jon’s never been in this position before.

He can’t just go right in, not when there’s so much other exposed flesh to put his mouth on first. He spreads Martin’s legs, lifts up his left thigh, and starts kissing the inside of it from just above the knee, gradually making his way up. Martin’s other leg flexes and twists, and Jon considers this proof that he’s doing something right.

He kisses all the way up to the join of the thigh and hips, and, without further ado, puts his mouth right between Martin’s legs. He’s ever so glad to hear Martin’s breathing get faster and shallower as he moves his tongue to an unheard beat. One hand on Martin’s hip, one hand getting himself off, he slowly works them both up to a fever pitch. The rush of being here, of doing this, soaks him in bliss so thoroughly that he only has room to think about bringing Martin pleasure. 

And that he certainly does. Martin's been getting louder and louder, crying out and stuttering over words like "oh Jon" and "that's good" and "please more," but he suddenly clams up. Jon feels his body tense and wind up under his touch. 

"Jon, Jon I'm going to--" he squeaks, unable to get through the sentence. Jon knows how it was going to end, though. Without another word, Martin's body convulses and his hips buck forward into Jon's mouth. Jon doesn't stop what he's doing, continuing to suck and lick right the way through until Martin's fallen back, spent, against the sofa. He's close himself and plans to stay there on the floor until he's done, but Martin hoists him up by the arms and he finds himself laying face up across the sofa, Martin's face going between his legs and bringing him the last short distance to completion. The climax shudders through his body like electricity, arching his back and pulling out a wordless cry. 

He feels Martin sit back up, and Jon lays there, panting jagged breaths on his back for a moment. A lot of words are swirling in his head, but they're starting to slow down, and he grabs at some. "I--I feel better now."

Martin laughs, a touch exhausted. "Good, then."

"Mmm." Jon stretches, sits, and crawls back into Martin's lap. "'M tired."

"I'd expect so." Cautiously, Martin kisses his forehead. 

"Don't want to move."

"Then don't."

"Alright," is the last word Jon remembers saying before drifting off to sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> ~comment and leave kudos if you wish~  
> this was actually my first time writing anything horny so I hope it came off okay lol


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